d the other, the lady who impersonated
her. The one man is Lord Donal Stirling, of the Diplomatic Service,
whose name is no doubt familiar to you. Lord Donal has done me the
honour to place the case in my hands."

"Why does his lordship wish to find this--this--fraudulent person?"
asked Jennie, speaking slowly and with difficulty.

"Because," said the detective, with the air of a man who knows whereof
he speaks, "he is in love with her."

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't think it, I know it. Listen to his description of her."

The detective chose a paper from among his pile of documents, folded,
labelled, and docketed for reference.

"'The girl is of average height, or perhaps a trifle taller than the
average; carries herself superbly, like a born duchess. Her eyes are of
a deep, velvety black--'"

"Dear me!" cried the girl, "he describes her as if she were a cat!"

"Wait a moment," said the detective.

"I don't see much trace of love in that," continued Jennie breathlessly.

"Wait a moment," repeated the detective. "'They light up and sparkle
with merriment, and they melt into the most entrancing tenderness.'"

"Good gracious!" cried Jennie, rising, "the conceit of the man is
illimitable. Does he mean to intimate that he saw tenderness for himself
in the eyes of a woman he had met for an hour or two?"

"That's just it," said the detective, laughing. "You see the man is head
over ears in love. Please sit down again, Miss Baxter, and listen. I
know this sentimental kind of writing must be irksome to a practical
woman like yourself, but in our business we cannot neglect even the
slightest detail. Let's see, where was I?--'tenderness,' oh, yes. 'Her
hair is of midnight darkness, inclined to ripple, with little whiffs of
curls imperiously defying restraint about her temples. Her complexion is
as pure as the dawn, touched now and then with a blush as delicate as
the petal of a rose.'"

"Absurd!" cried Jennie impatiently. "The complexion of a woman at a
ball! Of course, she put it on for the occasion."

"Of course," agreed the detective. "But that merely shows you how deeply
in love he is. Lord Donal is quite a young man. He came up to this room
to consult with me, and certainly he doesn't know the difference between
a complexion developed in a Surrey lane and one purchased in New Bond
Street."

"Still, the blushing would seem to indicate that the complexion was
genuine," retorted Jennie, apparently qu